


Scribbles

by Shakespeares_Girl



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris has a habit of writing things down on whatever happens to be available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scribbles

One of the things about Kris is that he's always writing.  He writes everything down manually, too, with whatever pens are handy--Adam's seen him use purple sparkly jelly roll pens when there was nothing else around.  Chord progressions, recipe ingredients, thoughts and lyrics and telephone numbers and grocery lists, all written down on whatever scraps of paper Kris could find and stuffed into his pockets.

At first it's weird.  Adam's always just remembered things, and when he needs a hard copy, he'll type it into his phone or a Word document when he gets a second at the computer.  Then it's endearing, especially when Adam figures out that if Kris can't find paper, he'll write on his skin.  Kris can fill up his entire left arm--all the places he can see, anyway--in an hour.  Of course, he spends the evenings bitching loudly about how hard it is to get ink off of his skin, and how he can't be expected to perform when it looks like he's got some sort of weird skin disease.  Adam likes to watch while he stands at the sink, soap suds up both arms as he scrubs at the words on his skin.

Then it shifts, somehow.  It's still silly and quirky and fun, but there's something else, too, something underneath.

It comes to a head when Kris runs out of space on his own arm and grab's Adam's.  Before he knows what's happening, Adam has neat, precise lines of Kris' handwriting marching up his arm, seven rows, eight, nine.  Adam gapes at Kris, tugs at his arm where Kris holds it, but Kris ignores him in favor of spelling out "innuendo" on the inside of Adam's elbow.  Kris reaches the sleeve of Adam's t-shirt and pushes it up, clearing more space for him to write in, and somehow manages to get words all the way up to Adam's shoulder before Adam twitches away, making a noise that's disturbingly close to a whine.

"Sorry, am I bothering you?" Kris asks, suddenly sheepish.  "I can--I'll just try to remember, I guess."

"No," Adam says, taking a deep breath and presenting his other arm to be written on.  "I just wasn't expecting it.  It's no big deal."

"Cool.  I'm almost finished with this, I just wanna get these thoughts down while they're fresh, you know?" Kris grins, then starts writing again.

When Kris is done, Adam slides on a long-sleeve shirt and tries not to think about the ink he's hiding, and what it might mean that he wants Kris to keep writing, all over his body, until he's covered in Kris' words.  Adam does a pretty good job of not thinking about it, so good he's about to jump in the shower when Kris clears his throat.  "What?" Adam wonders.

"Can I at least copy my words down first, dude?" he asks, smirking.

"Oh, right," Adam blinks.  "Yeah, of course.  How do you want to . . ."

"Take your shirt off, it'll be easier for me to read and write at the same time that way," Kris says.  Adam does as he's told, and Kris scoots closer to him.  His fingers trace up Adam's arm, following the lines of text, guitar calloused and warm.  Adam shivers, and Kris slaps him gently.  "Hold still.  I'm having enough trouble reading this without you moving."

Adam holds as still as possible, barely daring to breathe.  Kris' fingers trace his progress, up one arm, then the other, and god, it is a really fucking good thing Adam only has to deal with Kris copying down what's on his arms, because any more of those feather light touches and he's going to do something stupid, like pinning the married straight boy to the bed and kissing him.  Adam swallows down shocky lust and sighs.  "Am I done?" he asks finally, when Kris' fingers haven't moved for a while.

"Oh.  Yeah, right.  Go forth and be clean," Kris says, benevolently.  He looks clueless as to the effect he's been having on Adam.

Adam hightails it for the bathroom, locks himself in.  He looks at himself in the mirror and likes what he sees, the lines and lines of slightly smeared handwriting.  With a sharp laugh, he starts the shower and turns it up hotter than he normally likes it, needs to scald the feel of Kris' fingers away.  He gets under the spray and starts scrubbing, skin turning pink and raw as the ink bleeds away under the hot water and bodywash.  "This isn't a thing," he tells himself firmly.  But no matter how hard he scrubs, the writing won't go away.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scribbles [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/350298) by [paraka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraka/pseuds/paraka)




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